


Midnight Tea

by TheAllKnowingOwl



Series: Sunlight Coffee [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disguise, Do not repost, Ghoul!Arima Kishou, Hospitals, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, do not repost to another site, misuse of medicinal drugs, not gonna lie, this isn’t exactly pleasant reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllKnowingOwl/pseuds/TheAllKnowingOwl
Summary: “Why am I here?” the dark-haired man asks cautiously, pushing himself up on his elbows weakly. Suddenly, the Reaper leans forward, and the half-ghoul flinches. Barely.Good .Arima likes that.“Don’t play coy with me, Kaneki Ken,” he says instead, enjoying the widening of his eyes. “Miso soup tastes like machine oil and tofu tastes like lard. Suddenly, your senses have heightened, and everyone around you smells like a Hamburger Steak from ‘Big Girl’.“Surely, you know something’s up.”There’s a hitch in Kaneki’s breath, and Arima smiles a cold (a terrible ) smile. His charge is frozen on the bed, hands clenching and unclenching on the blanket as he realises his new truth.“You’re a ghoul now, Kaneki.”





	Midnight Tea

The Reaper stares at the pile of steel beams with something akin to dismay.

Of course, he doesn’t feel _ dismay _ \- Arima is the Reaper of the 20th Ward ( _ and several others _ ), he doesn’t feel _ dismay _ , but this certainly puts a… _ Spanner _ in the works. Rize’s death was something he’d planned for at this point, but not quite in the manner in which it has occurred.

Certainly, he hadn’t prepared for the possibility of his meal being damaged.

_ Shit _\- his meal. Kaneki!

Of course, Arima thinks, attempting to rationalise his mind as he half-runs to the dazed boy, he’d still eat Kaneki even if he were dead (_ how else would he eat him _ , _ damn it _ !) or damaged in the fight, but he’d never considered that his meal would be crushed. Arima may be hooked, but the Reaper will _ not _ stoop to licking human _ mulch _ from the ground.

To his relief, the only injuries Kaneki’s sustained are a bite to the shoulder and a puncture to his abdomen, but blood is spreading and Arima must act faster than its flow. In a flash, he swipes the boy’s phone from his pocket, 110 dialled within moments.

“Ambulance, please,” he says curtly, dropping the phone as he rises. The emergency services will track the call- with luck, Kaneki will be in hospital within the hour. 

*

But the story doesn’t end there.

Arima’s resourceful. He’s accumulated money over his life, enough to stock the apartment in the rundown building he owns with all the disguises he could ever need. It’s not often he enjoys a hunt like this, but when he does, he likes to be prepared.

Honestly? Arima has no idea what he’s doing. This plan is less ‘plan’, and more impulsive than the Reaper has acted in _ years _. Usually, he spends weeks trailing his target, putting together more information than even the government might gather. This is the first time he’s ever hunted half-cocked, only a few days later.

It’s exhilarating.

Quickly, quietly, he steals over the darkened Tokyo rooftops, pausing to let prowling doves pass, before moving onto the next building. The shadows blend in with his black wig, camouflaging his lithe body against the midnight nooks and crannies. The only spot of colour in his ensemble is the simple, white, face mask concealing his aristocratic features- the Reaper’s mask has no place in tonight’s game.

Finally, Arima drops into the inky alley behind the 20th Ward’s major hospital, catching a doctor on his smoke break unawares. Tossing the man’s wallet behind a dumpster, the Reaper shrugs on his coat and lanyard. With any luck, the unconscious man would assume a mugging once awake, but _ that _wouldn’t happen for a while. 

Slinking through the hospital halls, he takes a moment to access a computer, scanning the database for a few precious seconds, before finding Kaneki’s information. After that, it’s only a matter of minutes before the predator is standing outside his prey’s room.

Still, it’s not good to relax- time is of the essence, and his previous victim could awaken early.

Silently, Arima opens the door.

And freezes.

Inside- while unmistakably saturated with the scent of Kaneki- the air is tainted with the individual essence of ghoul.

In the space of a second, he’s inside, snapping the door shut behind him. Before, Arima’s plan was relatively simple: he’d drug the boy and remove him from the hospital under the guise of a patient going for surgery. Now? That plan is infinitely changed and yet all the same. The Reaper is stuck. And why?

Because, despite the ghoulish addition, Kaneki’s aura is even more fragrant than before.

_ Damn _.

Nevertheless, the bare bones of the plan are the same. He’ll knock his prey out and return them to his apartment, where the Reaper can work out what will happen next.

Taking a moment to read the chart, Arima scans the sheet quickly as he memorises the medication the doctors have prescribed. Due to Kaneki’s new metabolism, he doubts it’ll work, but it pays to be prepared.

However, in the brief time he stalled, something has happened.

_ Kaneki is stirring. _

In a flash, Arima is looming over him, the soaked rag at the ready. Blearily, the boy blinks up at him in confusion.

“Wha…” he mumbles, then, eyes sharpening, “You!”

“Shhh,” Arima placates him, flattening the cloth over Kaneki’s mouth and nose. Privately, he’s a little rattled that Kaneki remembers him, but he’s gone too far to back down now. “I’ll explain later.”

Eventually, he slips into oblivion, and the Reaper jumps into action. Carefully, he maneuvers Kaneki into a wheelchair, and fastens a brown wig over the boy’s hair. A face mask slid over any defining features, and Arima is making off with his prey.

In the darkness of the alley outside, he wraps Kaneki in an ebony blanket and cradles him to his chest, before they are off- a silent duo blending seamlessly with the night as he slinks away across the rooftops.

*

Kaneki wakes slowly, then all at once.

Arima has been waiting for this moment- the half-ghoul (that is the conclusion he has come to) slept for several hours, giving him more than enough time to formulate a plan. Now, he waits calmly for his charge to focus on him.

“Hello, Kaneki,” he greets, the image of power and grace, perfectly relaxed in the chair across from the bed. Inside, he is trembling with anticipation, but he won’t let the other spot that in the relaxed lines of his limbs.

“Why am I here?” the dark-haired man asks cautiously, pushing himself up on his elbows weakly. Suddenly, the Reaper leans forward, and the half-ghoul flinches. Barely.

_ Good _.

Arima likes that.

“Don’t play coy with me, Kaneki Ken,” he says instead, enjoying the widening of his eyes. “Miso soup tastes like machine oil and tofu tastes like lard. Suddenly, your senses have heightened, and everyone around you smells like a Hamburger Steak from ‘Big Girl’.

“Surely, you know something’s up.”

There’s a hitch in Kaneki’s breath, and Arima smiles a cold (a _ terrible _) smile. His charge is frozen on the bed, hands clenching and unclenching on the blanket as he realises his new truth.

“You’re a ghoul now, Kaneki. I don’t know how they did it, but I can hazard a guess,” he says, rising from the chair. This is the most he’s spoken in one go in years- it’s _ exhilarating _. “There was a hole in your torso- Rize was damn near pulverised. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what happened next.”

Arima gives the dark-haired man a moment to process what he’s saying, before moving on.

“You can’t go back to what you had before,” he says, with a gentleness that won’t last. The Reaper knows it’s easier to catch flies with honey, so he’s breaking out the sweet and silken words, before he locks the cage door. “You’ll break, you’ll kill someone.

“But I’m willing to teach you.”

“_ What _?” His words jolt Kaneki out of his daze. “What about Hide? What about school?”

“Do you really want your best friend’s blood on you hands?” Arima interrupts curtly, with just enough bite to make Kaneki look away. He must remain in control here. “I thought not,” returning to a more wearied and quiet tone. He is an actor and the world is his stage. “You can continue your degree digitally from here, if you wish, but I can’t let you be around so many people, not yet. It’s too risky, and could lead the doves back to us.”

“I-“ Kaneki fumbles briefly, until he settles, understanding his new life. “_ Okay _.”

“You’ll stay here,” he replies, turning to reach for something. “It’s the most logical option. I’ll be able to monitor you and teach you directly. 24/7, if necessary.”

“Of course, Arima-sensei-“ he starts, but Arima cuts him off.

“Arima-_ san _,” he says, stressing the honorific. While he wants Kaneki to hold some degree of respect for him, Arima dislikes the distance ‘sensei’ carries.

“Arima-san.”

“Good,” the Reaper murmurs, opening the tupperware container in his hands. A tantalising smell wafts out, and Arima watches in satisfaction as he sees Kaneki’s kakuhou emerge for the first time.

“Now _ eat _.”

*

The days pass quickly after that.

Soon, they fall into a loose rhythm- quiet mornings, then briefings and lessons of a sort, covering dove protocols and other knowledge vital for survival. Then, once night falls, Arima takes Kaneki out into the city, showing him dove patrol routes and the tunnel system used by Tokyo ghouls. He teaches Kaneki how to freerun and hide from their human hunters, but never once does he do this without ensuring his charge returns to him. He wants his protége fully dependent on _ him _.

Arima commissions a mask from Uta, in the form of a black eyepatch and leather covering, leading down into a grim, toothy grin. He enjoys watching the change that comes over Kaneki once he puts it on.

Some nights, Arima spars with Kaneki, teasing out his kagune and teaching him how to fight- both with and without. Himself, Arima has an Ukaku and Koukaku, but he’s always preferred the versatility of the Rinkaku Kaneki sports.

And on other nights, they hunt.

How the Reaper loves seeing Kaneki kill! To begin with, his protége had nearly vomited at taking down humans, but now he barely flinches. Of course, Arima’d had to strike a compromise to get him to this point, but he’ll turn him in that direction soon. 

He has a more refined palate than drug dealers and hobos, after all.

Still, there are some drawbacks to their excursions…

Amon Koutarou- a dove Arima would like nothing more than to sink his teeth into his trachea and _ pull _ . They can’t seem to stop coming across the man, as he changes his patrol route as much as Arima has been trying to avoid him, and Kaneki’s growing fascination with Amon is making him _ sick _.

And tonight is no exception.

“Kaneki.”

The word is enough. Arima does not need to make his meaning clear. His protege flushes, what little flesh the Reaper can see near-glowing with blood.

“Sorry, Arima-san,” he apologises, tugging at the zipper on his mask self-consciously. Even after his mentor’s reprimand, Kaneki can hardly tear his eyes away from the broad-shouldered dove.

A cat-like jealousy bridles under his calm facade. Kaneki belongs to _him_, there are no other contenders. Arima won his protége from Rize fair and square, clear for all ghouls to see, even if Kaneki is more oblivious than a brick wall.

They finish their hunt in barely stifled silence; Arima’s blood boiling every time he notices Kaneki’s distractedness.

Back at the flat, the Reaper waits ‘til Kaneki’s finished cleaning, before catching him in the space outside the bathroom. Really, Arima should have trained the messiness out of him by now, but the heat-induced flush after he exits is worth the extra blood.

There’s something beautifully primal about Kaneki giving into his instincts and tearing into the prey.

Arima will hate training that out of him as well.

Instead of punishing his protége, Arima pushes off the wall and gathers him in his arms, relishing the little leap Kaneki gives in surprise.

“You did well today,” he murmurs instead, enjoying how Kaneki tenses before relaxing at the words breathed in his ear.

“Thank you, Arima-san.”

Pushing away, the Reaper lets his hand slip to Kaneki’s wrist, giving a gentle tug as he saunters down to his room. Surprised his protége follows, stalling briefly at the threshold. Ignoring this, Arima walks to the bed, crossing his legs as he pulls the dark-haired man into straddling him, knees touching mattress on either side. The heat around his legs almost makes Arima stall, but he is not the Reaper for nothing.

“We will need our shirts off for this,” he says quietly, words loud in the silent room. Kaneki freezes once more, but Arima doesn’t let his half-formed protestations out. “This will be a mark of our covenant,” he says instead, watching Kaneki for any sign of fear. Arima is not so far gone that he will force _ his _ partner into this. “I wasn’t sure if you were ready to be my protége, but today has left no doubt in my mind.”

It’s a white lie, but worth it as the younger man loosens over him. Let Kaneki believe that: it’ll be worth every other ghoul knowing the truth, even if they won’t dare speak a word against the Reaper of the 20th Ward.

Gentle once again, Arima lifts Kaneki’s long sleeved tee over his head before unbuttoning and shrugging off his own, pulling the ghoul closer to him until they’re almost brushing chests. There is a near electricity between their skin that’s thrilling.

Brushing his hands over Kaneki’s back to cease the trembling, Arima finally entwines his fingers in his protége’s hair, feeling the fragile skull beneath his fingers as he wraps another arm around his waist. It’s almost time.

Carefully, Arima lets his mouth rest over the juncture of Kaneki’s shoulder and neck, before sinking his teeth deep and slow into the firm muscle. The warmth and taste is so delicious that he stays for a moment longer, then draws back, sweeping the blood welling up into his mouth, until the wound is sealed with his saliva.

“And now you me.”

As Arima feels Kaneki bite his shoulder, he almost groans in pleasured glee: he’s Arima’s now, even if he doesn’t realise it.

For better.

For worse.

**Author's Note:**

> I am theallknowingowlagain on tumblr! Come chat!


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